Each for their own Priorities
by MoreNonsense
Summary: Reporting back: Pros - he is dead. Cons - she misses a shirt. An unusual way back home from a solo mission through the streets of Antiva City.
1. Priorities

She skid under one of the tables lining the edge of the last row of buildings dockside. The usually sharp scent of fish had apparently seeped into the very wood over the years, because it still held the faint smell over her. It stirred with the chill of the air against her bare skin as she came to a quick halt.

Focusing on her breathing she steadied her crouch, pressing her fingertips to the ground. The other arm she pressed protecting over her chest. Not because it was a glorious mass of chest to protect or because of embarrassment, but decency always applied even in this early hour.

Antiva City had the nightlife much like any other city, with the homeless holing up were room was left and other colorful personas not able to operate during the busy hours of the day moving along the streets. It also possessed a few more characters with a bloodstained career in the name of politics, the shadows of the city never rested, but there were no crowds moving about.

The bells of the chantry had rang three times not long ago and no citizen would leave home until the sixth, so she had plenty of time, really. It took almost an hour to walk from the quarters to here, and she had done that in the slow pace of daylight.

But the sun was long gone and the open sky drew all the warmth on the streets into the frosty stars. The air was starting to dig into the skin on her back and arms but it cleared her head from the cozy calm that had settled in during the evening.

When the voices she had hid from traveled further behind her she crept out to glance past them down the whole street, but that side of the dock was empty, besides the two men that passed.

She started in the opposite direction, humming low to herself for her still tranquilized thoughts. Her first goal was the stocking piles a block away on the dock, where an early crew was loading the goods onto the first ship this day. "Merry-Seu"; what an odd name, but then again she never got sailormen. Or merchants. She _got_ to kill them, last evidence lay half a block behind her, Rift-way tavern, second floor, but otherwise she never had the pleasure to talk to them. And for some reason it is hard to learn the way of life of someone when you plan the best way to rip their vitals, without getting splatters of them in your gear.

This time she had failed in that, and she did not even have her clothes on, by the time. She would have to keep in mind planning for where her clothes were located in the future; the man had noticed the dagger last second and tried fend her off _and_ run at the same time. She got him easily thanks to that, stab to the back and slit his throat, but she also had him collapse and bleed on her garments. And when you get as clean a shot on the artery as she had gotten in his pathetic struggle there is no stopping the red waterfall.

She had picked out everything salvageable, arguing with herself over what she could bear to put on again. In the end it resulted in the man's rough, but completely clean pants, her small daggers (for hiding purpose) and his stained belt and pouch, which looked expensive. She also picked up her entwined leather bracelet because even though it was as soaked as her dress it did not cling to her skin in the way a fabric would have done.

She was glad she had not put that dress back on; it would have been even colder and more uncomfortable now. The hand in which she had held the dress before disposing of it in the sewer felt freezing and sticky as the blood were only beginning to crust around it. She rubbed her fingers together to get off what she could, but it was not the most present thing on her mind.

She was closing in on the goods square. Soon she would enter the ways between piles of squarely stacked crates, she had still not found what she sought. The people were moving lazily with their goods and fire around the little dock between the water and stacking area. Timing in when to run and when to duck was all that kept her hidden from them, but that was child's play in this light. As the sound of voices became clearer she started to comment in her head the tactic she had in sneaking around the various trash of barrels on her way. A reminder that her head had not cleared up yet.

The plane street opened up into the outskirts of the main stocking area and she turned into the safety of walls of goods taller than a full-grown human man. She had stopped humming and absentmindedly watched for something to clothe herself with when she saw the light in the crossing way ahead of her getting brighter. It had brightened a lot already. Without pause she slid herself into the slim space between two stockpiles right by the wall in the last second.

No, she was not alert right now, or she would have noticed the light before. She could blame the lack of sleep, but knew those few drinks still lingered, despite what her body told her. But her affected blood was starting to gain speed at the hide-and-seek game only she knew they were playing. The light in the corridor were not fading, but grew brighter again as it's bearer had turned and would pass her. She sidestepped to the end of the boxes and brought both arms to her sides to squeeze herself in between them and the wall.

She saw the torch and maybe even a nose before she was secure out of sight. She bit her lip feeling the rough surface scratch her back and goose bumps pulling it together towards the even more absent warmth in the stone. She leaned away from it best she could and pressed her cheek to the wood in front of her. The pulse under her collarbone kept beating even though she was breathing deeply again. Running around shirtless was exciting enough to make her smile even when she was cramped in a standstill. Logic told her she should to stay until the man passed her once more. She and the box could have a little alone time, meanwhile, as long as the wall did not join them, preferably.

She never liked cold and often did not have to deal with it, but sometimes she had to put up. She should have brought some spirits on the go just to block it out. But on second thought it might cost her to end up in a back alley somewhere and she was not the type to do that. The stories from those who did anyways were… vague. But they always ended with great embarrassment, even amongst those who like her had never learned to feel truly ashamed.

But light yet again filled her previous space and she heard quiet footsteps on the other side of her crate, then it all faded. Time to get on her way. She wiggled out again and stuck her head out the hiding place finding the passage dark in both directions. Sneaking, she kept going to the next crossing and put her arm back up for coverage. The next cross was empty too, but at one end of it she saw the light from the dock, so she snuck in the other direction.

Now she kept better attention at the flickering lights that moved in the maze of goods and ducked them a couple of times, looking for her only purpose in coming here: A sack or something. The ones she found were stuck under other goods so she moved along toward the other side of the square.

Then finally in about the tenth turn she spotted a barrel that was covered in what looked like sackcloth. She tripped up to it and pulled at a tucked in corner, and forgot to smother a soft laugh in surprise as it came loose. She tugged at it again, this time using both hands, putting a bit more weight into it. It budged a bit more and sent some of the oranges it was protecting to the ground, but it was still stuck behind the barrel. Third tug. Forth…

"Hey!" A voice called from behind her just as the cloth came loose. She stumbled half a step back to catch her balance before she spun her head. A dark haired, dark eyed and very short man stood torch raised and frozen in midstride, taking in her bare back to the dim light that reached her. Surprise. She smiled. More to herself, for being astonishingly beautiful, then to him. All right, maybe the sight of any average person half naked in the middle of the night would make people stare, but whatever.

To not encourage a scene she kept her mouth shut and just pressed the cloth to her chest as she dived around the corner towards the nearest exit. There were only one, except the opening back to the docks, but it still lay very close to it. Behind her the man's dark voice started hollering to catch the thief and the rest of the harbor seemed to start simmering as more shouts joined in.

She ran in what must be the closest corridor to the right side, where the opening, also called the Shaft, would be, but she dashed in between some new crates again as soon as she saw lights appear from the other side.

"That way!" Their words carried and she once again pushed herself in between a wall and cargo. She would be trapped, the moment they came to check behind the crates on either side of her. There were only three ways out from there where left and right were blocked, so up it goes. She started an odd climb, using pressure between the wall and the pile to inch herself upward, until her hands could reach the top of it and pull up the rest of her body.

Keeping pressed down to the top of the stack she checked her right for the opening between the houses, an opening that had been obscured from the ground. The passage was less than three big strides away. The warnings from the crew had changed to information about what had happened, where they had checked, and that the thief was topless. Great motivator, the last one. But she was not, in fact, topless anymore. She had her rightfully obtained sackcloth in her hands and had just to put it on, the moment she got some peace and quiet.

Heart pounding hard now, she crawled a bit further forward, as far as she dared, towards the edge of the crates. Breathing forgotten, she noticed that she had scraped her arms; some red drops faintly glistened on them. Must have gotten them as she "climbed" between the walls. The light that it reflected came from the torches carried by the people looking. She hoped everyone had one, or at least walked with someone who had, that way she could make out were they were.

She only needed some seconds of time and confusion to get to the opening, for now. That would be her first step to her next goal. Which was to get home. The lights moved along the islands of goods in the maze, some still seemed the look in all the different gaps between the blocks where she had been not a minute ago. But they kept moving farther left from her. She thought it seemed the most part of the lights were also, in fact, moving left, or at least in the opposite direction. Perfect!

"Ey, who's blockn' the Shaft?"

There was a pause in the babbles next to her. Oh, no.

"You shrink-limbed idiots didn't block the Shaft? Andraste's pointy maiden-tits, **block it**. Block it **now**!"

Her eyes widened at the sound of a powerful voice, clearly in charge, rising from the deep gaps and her inner voice made up her own much more inventive swear. This was her only chance.

Watching the approaching bubble of light she pushed herself up an inch of the crates and than turned onto her hip to spin around as closely to her cover as she could, bringing her feet closer to the edge. She propped herself on her elbows, could even see the top of the heads of some of the men, and pressed her heels at the edge of the nearest crates. As the light went by straight in front of her she pushed, with all she had, and the two crates by the walk crashed down on the passerby.

An alarmed shout, accompanied by the terrible crash woke the crew once again. No time to loose she launched herself over the edge and landed right on the tilted crates. She had managed to tilt the whole pile, not just the top ones, and she thought she heard something crack as she hit the box, but it might just have been the wood.

Not that she was not concerned, she never wanted to harm the innocent without apologizing, but she did not feel like changing her plan, so she bolted off the grunting pile and landed running on the tiles. Pressing the cloth to her chest again she exited the square of goods at the top of her speed, if one of them took up pursuit she did not know, or check for that matter. They were probably busy rescuing their friends from the cargo-assault, anyway.

She ran the tiniest streets she could find for as long as the rush let her do so easily, and regrettably passed some people on the way. Hopefully she did not know them, or they did not know her, but she did not exactly check. When she came to stop, she checked the alley twice before she leaned against the ice of a stonewall again. Head tilted back to it she allowed herself to chuckle, the sound resonant against the walls. Nothing beat the rush of a hunt, not even when you are the prey. Provided that you get away of course.

Now, she could rightfully claim she was sober. The chill was now welcome at her heated skin, but she decided it was time to put on the cloth anyway. She cut off a big enough piece of it to tie over one of her shoulders and fasten at her belt and in the end she felt pleased with her handiwork. Not the latest fashion, but it held a certain charm.


	2. Passion

The run turned into a walk on the rest of the way. She was heading back to her appointed room in the shared apartments without reporting her success yet; it was not a pressing mission after all and they would not expect her until the next morning anyway.

On her way she went through an open square and laid eyes on the communal well in the middle of it. Giving in to temptation and trying to rub off the last persistent dark red crusts on her hand she left the shadows to cross the moonlit pavement. The thick, wooden lid was heavy to prevent younglings from possible pranking. It seemed some were oblivious many a year that it held the water _everyone_ in this quarter was to drink from.

She managed to push the lid far enough to fit the bucket though the hole and hear the slash from where it hit the surface, then she started turning the winch as the Chantry bells rang five times. She pulled the well shut again before she proceeded to wash her hands and arms free of any excessive blood.

Then she resumed her trip home but before she reached it she came to a standstill beside a familiar window. It was small, set in the height of her head, the hinges were on the topside of it and the frame was worn in an area in the middle of the lower plank. This window had been visited times before her intrusions.

Her hand found its way into the new, stained pouch on her hip, searching for a content she remembered from her quick examining of its depths. Finding it, she withdrew a lock-pick, put it into the slit and pulled it along the worn mark, pushing the latch on the inside out of place. With her other hand she dug her nails into the frame and jerked it to get it open. She succeeded on the second try and put back the slender tool again before she ducked her head into the window. At this time the warmth inside was welcome and it battled the cool around her neck.

"Zev?" she whispered, into the dark beneath the window. He was already moving, sitting up.

"Ah, I wondered just who it might be to break into my home," his voice answered. The slight tinge of sleep around the usual edge made it even more endearing. "To what do I owe the pleasure, my dear?"

She heaved herself up to sit in the window frame, blind until her eyes left the blue light outside behind.

"I happened to pass by and thought I might visit. If you do not mind." She added a warm smile, even if he would not see it in the dark, and held out her hand to him. Shifting his weight on to his knees he chuckled deep in his chest as he took it.

"Who could mind such an inviting presence? I do not," he answered, tone more alert by the second, as he steadied her descent to the bed beside him. A sliver of moonlight moved over his full, curved lips as he re-latched the window before turning to her. Even in the dark she could make out his features turning into a full smile regarding her. He did not give many such a charming view of his teeth, and even though it was as simple an act as could be she dearly appreciated it. It stilled her craving of life and joy, not in the way of pleasure and success, but a way alien to the rest of her life. It made her mind feel elevated beyond the lightweight she usually thought she kept it to.

Seeing as she just smiled back at him Zevran continued, he was like that, never dared silence as a way to let anyone know him. It was not necessarily a bad habit, to never let anyone pinpoint your intentions, your ability, your fear. He had learned well.

"It seems you have had a rough contract," he said, stroking a finger over the scratches on her arm, the arm of which hand he was still holding. "I shall help you with that, my dear.''

"As long as the "help" is quiet." Another, grumpy, voice made way from across the room. Someone sharing it had woken up. They both turned in the direction, both bringing out amused smiles. She watched Zevran's in the corner of her eye and it was not the first time as of late.

"I will do only what is required. You, I am sure, would do the same," he answered.

This was one of the rooms for the newest crows, those that had not yet gotten a room of their own. She had gotten hers only weeks ago and was thankful for finally being able to shut other eyes out. Privacy was not to be given the recruits within the ranks of the Crows but the ones that survived grew used to that, more or less.

"Don't worry about it, honey, just fall back asleep," she purred to the shadows before she turned back to lean close to him and bring her hand to a marked cheek, she caressed up the black adornments. Her other hand let go of his and followed the flow of his abdomen up and to a new mark curving over his chest. Sleek lines still protruding slightly went in style with his previous ink. He had not chosen to get this by his own will, few of them did.

"You earned this, or is somebody simply bored?" she had to ask.

Often the masters said it was a given reward for extinguishing services but the fact that everyone got them, even the ones who never did the greatest of acts, was glaring. It was a reminder to them that they do no longer own themselves, no matter what they claim. She did not mind working as she did and the designs were never ugly, but to not have a say in what is to happen to her own skin, in a permanent change. She resented it. Knowing that the humans deprived her of a future and lifetime, free as they were, made her want to kill them, not kill for them. That was a thought she would never say out loud but it was too personal to ignore when faced with.

"Well it is a rather exciting process, no? Or do you not like it?"

It would do her no good to dwell upon, but she felt herself dangerously close to serious when she looked back to his eyes again. She simply stared at them, through them, and met the hardened wall of _thoughts_ that was folded within the warmth of the dark circles. A decided shake of her head was all she gave and saw the thoughts shift with his eyes.

He got it, he _had_ to get it. He knew she knew and they felt the same about it, it was all she needed to see and not worth discussing. She leaned back slightly to bring herself back out the depths in his mind again. It felt right to pull herself back up with the corners of her lips.

"But there is still a lot of you left for me to… admire."

Running her hand down over his skin again was as natural as the anticipation stretching across his face was immediate. His low chuckle returned as he came up with a reply but he was cut short from the other side of the room.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt again but… no, not sorry at all actually. Shut it."

Someone did not possess the best temper in this cell. Must be a really fresh, lucky recruit to come here. She shook her head smiling as Zevran closed his arms tighter around her waist.

These moments were to be cherished; both could be dead tomorrow for all they knew. She deeply breathed him in and felt him do the same by her ear before his soft lips started brushing her neck. He breathed her name and she felt a warm shiver of it travel every segment of her spine before it spread out to the rest of her body. It was a pleasant but unfamiliar sensation. He had done this to her only a couple of times before, but it seemed to be getting stronger. Which was a good thing, because she _liked_ it.

"Rinna."


End file.
